Kim Miso

The days after my argument with Taehyung drifted by like heavy clouds, each one casting its shadow over me, a constant reminder of his harsh words. I kept to myself as much as I could, sticking to the quieter corners of the penthouse—the library, the balcony, the small nook by the large windows where the city stretched out beneath us like an endless maze of lights and distant lives. Yet, somehow, this high up, I felt so very alone.

I tried to keep my mind busy, tried to ignore the way my chest tightened whenever I thought of him. But even the endless view from the top floor, the breathtaking sights of Seoul below, couldn’t shake the weight sitting heavy in my heart. Every sound, every reminder of his presence in this space we shared, felt like a cold reminder that there was no escaping him here.

And then, today arrived. The one day I wanted to forget, yet a day I could never let slip away. The anniversary of my mother’s death.

I woke up feeling that familiar ache, a dull and persistent sorrow that filled every inch of me.

The moment I woke up, I felt it: the weight in my chest, the dull ache that echoed through every part of me. Today marked the anniversary of my mother’s death, and though I had learned to carry that pain in silence, today, it was unbearable. My mind drifted into little space, the safe place where I could feel her warmth, even if just for a little while.

I slipped out of bed and grabbed my most comforting sweater, oversized and soft against my skin, like a shield against the world outside. Wrapping myself in it, I felt smaller, I let myself slip into little space—that safe, quiet place in my mind where I could still feel her warmth. It was a fragile world I’d created, a way to hold onto the parts of me that felt safe and innocent, a way to remember her without breaking. In little space, everything was softer, gentler, like the way she used to make me feel.
I took my snowball—one of the few things left from those days. Its fur was worn and patchy, but it smelled faintly of lavender, just like she did. I held it close, whispering, “I miss you, Mommy.”

The day drifted by, each hour blending into the next. I stayed on my bedroom floor, surrounded by the small things that brought me comfort. I took out my coloring book, one that was almost entirely filled, and grabbed my crayons. The colors were bright and simple—pinks, blues, yellows—each one a splash of innocence that contrasted with the pain I felt inside. I colored each shape carefully, whispering to myself as I worked, “Mommy would like this one.” I imagined her sitting beside me, encouraging me to stay inside the lines with her soft laughter.

Later, I reached for my mother’s old storybook, its spine cracked and pages slightly yellowed. I traced my fingers over the cover, remembering how she used to read to me before bedtime. I opened it and began reading aloud, mimicking her voice in the way she would say each character’s line. I stumbled over a few words, pausing to hear her gentle corrections in my memory. Each line brought a piece of her back to me, if only for a few fleeting moments.

Around noon, I decided to make a tea party on my bed, carefully arranging my snowball, a soft teddy bear, and my favorite blanket on the pillows. “You’re all my guests,” I whispered, pouring pretend tea into small cups from an old playset. I smiled softly, imagining my mother sitting across from me, laughing at my serious expression as I handed her a cup. I spoke to the toys as if they could hear me, each word a small bridge connecting me to her memory. “Mommy would want me to be strong,” I murmured to my bear, “but it’s so hard.”

By afternoon, I felt an overwhelming need to hear her voice, her laughter. I took out my music box, one of her old belongings, and opened the lid. The soft, delicate tune drifted through the room, wrapping me in a comforting melody that reminded me of her lullabies. I rocked back and forth, hugging my bear tighter, letting the music carry me back to simpler times when her voice was all I needed to feel safe.

As evening approached, the sunlight cast a warm glow over the room, and I crawled over to the window, resting my head against the glass. The city lights flickered on below, but I wasn’t seeing them. I was back in our old garden, watching her plant flowers, her laughter filling the air. I closed my eyes, pretending that she was there, that we were together again, even if only in my mind.

I spent most of the day curled up with my snowball, humming her lullabies under my breath, letting each note soothe the ache in my heart. I whispered to her in the silence, asking for advice, for strength, for a sign that she was still with me, somehow, somewhere. In my little space, I could still feel her arms around me, hear her whispering that everything would be okay.
I clutched the old, worn-out photo of her that I kept hidden in my nightstand drawer, my fingers tracing the faded edges. I hugged a soft pillow close to my chest, pretending it was her, that she was here, holding me, protecting me from everything that had come after she left. I closed my eyes, listening to the faint hum of the city below, trying to remember the sound of her voice, the way she used to hum lullabies just for me.

The day slipped by in a soft haze of memories and whispers, and though the pain never left, little space gave me a brief escape, a momentary sense of peace in the chaos. Tonight, I would try to sleep, holding onto the last remnants of her presence, hoping that maybe, in my dreams, she would visit me once more.

By the time evening rolled around, I’d barely moved from that spot. The staff, as if sensing my need for solitude, left me alone. Yin and Yang hadn’t come by all day, and for once, I was grateful for the silence, for the uninterrupted memories.

As the sun began to set, I finally forced myself up, feeling the chill of the penthouse pressing in around me. I draped a shawl over my shoulders, a thin layer against the cold that seemed to seep into my bones. I walked to the wide, glass windows, watching the city lights flicker to life one by one, tiny stars against the vast, dark skyline.

I pressed my forehead against the glass, my breath fogging the surface as I let myself whisper to the ghost of her memory. “I miss you, Mom,” I murmured, the words barely a breath, caught somewhere between a plea and a confession. The world below stretched out like an indifferent sea of lights, glittering in the distance, far removed from the ache in my heart.

My fingers tightened around the shawl as I tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. She wouldn’t want this—wouldn’t want me to feel so lost, so helpless. But tonight, no amount of composure could mask the grief clawing its way to the surface.

The penthouse felt so empty, echoing with memories and unspoken words. And even though I tried to be strong, tonight it all felt like too much. This life, this place, Taehyung’s constant presence—everything felt heavy, like a weight pressing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe.

But tomorrow would come. I’d go back to pretending, go back to being the unbreakable Miso. I’d find a way to smile, to put on the mask that kept me safe in his world. But tonight, just for tonight, I let myself feel the pain, let myself be that small, vulnerable girl who once knew what love felt like.

Tomorrow, I’d face him again, stronger, colder. But for now, it was just me, the distant lights of Seoul, and the silent memory of her love.

_______________________________________

The days after my last argument with Taehyung blurred together in a haze of frustration and loneliness. He had grown colder, more distant, as if each fight only solidified his resolve to keep me shut out. Yet even as his coldness gnawed at me, Yin and Yang’s concern persisted. They weren’t just Taehyung’s men to me—they were my friends, the ones who had made this life bearable.

But I couldn’t let go of the bitterness. Despite their attempts to reach out, I ignored them, feeling betrayed that they had just followed Taehyung’s orders without question. They’d tried countless times, calling through my door, waiting for me in the hall, hoping I’d talk to them. Every time, I rebuffed them.

One afternoon, after yet another knock from them, I finally opened the door, hands on my hips.
I watched Yin and Yang with a raised eyebrow as they shifted uncomfortably outside my room. My arms were crossed, foot tapping in silent rhythm. I knew they were trying to talk me down, but I had one rule, one little demand: we’d talk in my room. If they really wanted to settle things, then they had to be willing to step into my space.

“Fine,” I said, eyeing them both sharply. “I’ll talk to you—on one condition. We talk in my room.”

Yin and Yang exchanged a quick, almost nervous look. I could practically see Taehyung’s orders playing in their minds, the strict warning he’d given them to never enter my room. But they’d come so far, and it was clear they were desperate to mend the rift between us.

"Come on, Miso," Yin pleaded, looking around like he was expecting Taehyung to jump out of nowhere. "You know Boss told us not to go into your room unless it’s an emergency."

I rolled my eyes, giving him a smirk I knew would annoy him. “So, this isn’t an emergency? You don’t want me to think of you as friends again?” I paused for effect, enjoying how they both looked completely trapped. “Fine, if you’re just here as Taehyung’s men, then I guess we have nothing to talk about.”

Yang groaned, and I could tell they were both torn. After all, they were fiercely loyal to Taehyung, and crossing him? That wasn’t something they took lightly. But this time, it was my turn to push.

“If you really want me to listen, if you’re still my friends and not just his men, then follow me.” I opened the door to my room and stepped inside, letting the challenge hang in the air. They exchanged a look, grimacing, and after what felt like ages, I finally heard their reluctant footsteps behind me.

Hook, line, and sinker.

I could see them wrestling with their loyalty to Taehyung and their friendship with me. Finally, after a heavy silence, they sighed in unison and nodded, following me inside with reluctance evident in their every step. I suppressed a sly smirk. They’d walked right into my hands.

As they settled uncomfortably on the couch, I took my time closing the door and leaned against it, arms crossed. “Alright, gentlemen, I’m all ears. Go on, explain yourselves.”

Yang cleared his throat, trying to look at ease, but I could tell by the way he fidgeted that this wasn’t easy for him. “Look, Miso, we never meant to make you feel like you’re just… a part of Boss’s orders. To us, you’re more than that.”

Then Yin speaks, his voice hesitant. “Miso… we tried. Really, we did. But Taehyung is our boss. You know how he is. We can’t just go against his orders.”

I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “And yet, you’re here now, aren’t you?”

Yang nodded, his face earnest. “Because we care about you, Miso. You’re not just the boss’s wife to us. We consider you… family. Like a little sister, even.”

“Yeah,” Yin agreed, his gaze softening. “To us, you’re like a little sister. Someone we care about. More than just… Taehyung’s wife or someone we have to keep an eye on.”

I gave them a sly smile, tilting my head. “Oh really? If I’m like a sister to you, then why did you follow his orders without even thinking about what I want? Or how I'll feel?”

They exchanged uneasy glances, and I could tell I’d hit a nerve. Good. They deserved to squirm a little.

Yang sighed, looking down at his hands. “Because we’re bound to him, Miso. We’ve tried, many times, to reason with him on your behalf. But he doesn’t always listen. And at the end of the day, we’re his men. That’s just how it is.”

I crossed my arms tighter, biting my lip as their words settled over me. They weren’t wrong. Taehyung was relentless, his word as unyielding as stone. But still, it hurt to think that my friends were shackled to his decisions, unable to stand by me fully.

After a long silence, I let out a heavy sigh, feeling my defenses start to crumble. I was still angry with Taehyung, and I had every right to be. But I realized now that holding Yin and Yang accountable wasn’t fair. They were just as much his as they were my friends.

“Fine,” I said slowly, “I’ll forgive you. But on one condition.” I paused, watching their faces for effect. They both looked up eagerly, a hint of hope in their eyes. “If anything happens that involves me—even if Taehyung orders it—you’ll come to me first. I don’t want secrets, and I don’t want lies.”

Yin sighed, rubbing his temples as if this was the most exhausting negotiation of his life. “Miso, you’re asking us to double-cross Boss. That’s—”

“Unthinkable?” I finished, crossing my arms. “Unheard of? Sure. But it’s what I’m asking. And if you really care about me like you say, then you’ll do it. Or I guess I’ll just have to assume you’re only here for Taehyung.”I narrowed my eyes. “ I guess you’re just Taehyung’s men, not my friends.”

That did the trick. Yin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, before nodding.They both looked at each other, and I could tell they were weighing their options. Finally, Yang gave a resigned sigh. “Alright. We promise. We’ll tell you what we can, but only if it doesn’t put your safety at risk. You’re our priority, Miso, not just because Taehyung told us to look after you, but because we want to look after you.That’s as far as we can go.”

For the first time in a while, I felt a genuine smile tug at my lips. “Good. That’s all I needed to hear and I can work with that.” I could feel the tension between us dissolve just a little, and I knew we were on our way to mending things, maybe even going back to how things used to.

Their relief was almost comical, and it was like a weight had lifted from the room. I could feel the warmth of our old camaraderie returning, the bond we had before things became so… complicated.

“Now, about your little space…” Yang began, his voice cautious.

I gave him a playful glare. “Don’t think you’re getting some big reveal. You already know enough,” I teased. “Besides, it’s not like I have to explain myself to you just because we’re friends again.”

They both laughed, though I could see the relief in their eyes. I felt lighter, more myself, and I knew now that they’d keep their word. I could trust them, even if Taehyung couldn’t.
“We just want you to know that you don’t have to hide it from us,” Yin said gently. “We’re here to look out for you, not just because it’s our job but because we actually care. You don’t have to hide any part of yourself from us, Miso.”

His words struck a chord, and I found myself smiling despite myself. “I don’t want to make a habit of it,” I said, looking away, my cheeks warming. “But… maybe someday, I’ll let you see that side of me. Maybe soon.”

“Oh, and by the way,” Yin added with a teasing smile, “don’t think you can use your little space to get out of trouble. We’ll still hold you accountable for anything you do outside of it.”

I laughed, feeling the weight of the past days finally lift. “Good luck with that. I’m not exactly easy to handle.”

They nodded in unison, a soft look in their eyes as if I’d just given them something precious.
We ended up talking for a while, laughing and reminiscing about old times. Yin and Yang made me promise not to hide my little space from them if I needed help, and I reluctantly agreed. They were genuinely worried, but their protectiveness felt more like family now—not duty. We spent the next few minutes reminiscing about old times, laughing and teasing each other like we used to. For a moment, it was almost like everything was back to normal.

Just when I thought the day couldn’t get any better, the door to my room swung open with a loud bang. I looked up, startled, only to see Taehyung standing in the doorway, eyes blazing and jaw clenched tight. He looked between me and the men on my couch, his expression darkening.

“Miso,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous growl. He flicked his gaze from me to Yin and Yang, his eyes narrowing. “What is going on here?”

Yin and Yang immediately stiffened, sitting up straight like two schoolboys caught misbehaving.

Yin and Yang looked away, practically wilting under his glare. But I didn’t flinch. Instead, I leaned back, folding my arms and raising an eyebrow. “Just a chat with my friends. Or is that not allowed either?”

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed, and I could see the tension tightening his jaw. But I wasn’t backing down. Not this time.

His gaze darkened, and I could see the fury smoldering beneath his expression. “You two—out. Now.”

Yin and Yang glanced at me apologetically before hurrying toward the door. As they passed Taehyung, he shot them a look that made them flinch, and I felt a pang of guilt. They had risked a lot to talk to me, and now they’d be bearing the brunt of Taehyung’s wrath.

When the door shut behind them, Taehyung turned his attention to me, his expression hard and unyielding.

For a brief second, something flickered in his gaze—something almost vulnerable—but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. He closed the distance between us.

************************************

Author’s Note

Oh, boy! Looks like things just took a turn! So, what do you all think? What could possibly have made Taehyung so furious? Is it jealousy, his protective side, or maybe he’s just struggling with control? And now that Miso has dared to stand up to him, how do you think he’ll react?

Will he find a way to keep her close by tightening his grip even more, or will this confrontation push them both in a new direction? 😏 Let me know your thoughts! I'm excited to hear what you all think Taehyung's next move will be and if Miso will be able to handle whatever he throws her way!